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CONTENT: An explicit gay retelling of the Last of Us. Will Joel be able to keep Eli safe? And from what?
Sci-fi / Fantasy
Slash Fiction
Incest (in later episodes)
celebrity
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CHAPTER 4: POP POP POP ON THE FARM: BILL AND FRANK: ________________
"The rules are simple," Joel said as we walked on the old Route 90, the branches of the trees crowding overhead. "Don't ask about my past, and I won't ask about yours."
"I don't have a past I'm 18." The only real past I had to speak of is everything that had happened in the last ten days. In the morning, after Trey had died and I still hadn't turned, Joel had agreed to take me out of the city. We had only run into one bunch of infected along the way. All of them were runners. They came at us fast, but Joel had Kane's machine gun and mowed them down. He didn't even stop, just shot them as they charged him. I'd never seen a man so calm under pressure. Either Joel had a death wish, or he was just as capable and deadly as Martin had told me he would be. Getting a chance to see the infected up close in the daylight, I was scared by what I saw. Their skin had weird purple lesions and fungal growths that sprouted around their orifices. They moved almost humanly, but as if they were a full-grown adult learning to walk. Any thought I had of not doing precisely what Joel wanted of me vanished in that first firefight. He may be cold and distant, but the man was a trained killer.
"Well, I won't ask you about your past, Eli. We're just in this till we get to Bill and Frank's." I thought of letting the silence stretch between us, but there was nothing else to do on the road, and I was curious.
"Who are they?" I finally asked as the morning gave way to the afternoon.
"I said no questions."
"You said about your past. I just want to know who they are. Especially if you're going to leave me with them."
"You'll get along fine there." He gave me a knowing look and half of a smile. It was the only emotion I had seen him show since we left Boston. He had barely talked for a full after Trey had died. Just grunted and pointed the way to go. He stared up between the branches at the blue sky overhead. "Trey would have called them friends."
"And you?" Joel was silent for a long moment.
"You're not gonna just let me walk there in quiet, are you?"
"Martin told me to trust no one, and now you're gonna leave me with strangers, so yeah, I'd like to know who they are." Joel went back to being silent. He was more stoic than a rock. We walked for another ten minutes in silence, the morning air only broken by the sounds of the birds whirling overhead.
"I'd call them friends too... They found each other in this madness, and they made it work. Frank told me the story once; he's the kind one. Bill. Well, Bill is an odd one. Sort of looks like Santa Claus but acts like the Grinch."
"Who?" Joel looked at me, and a flicker of sadness crossed his face.
"Doesn't matter. I'll tell you about em best I can, though there is a lot you're too young for."
"I'm old enough.
"Look. They met after the world ended, and like everyone who met in those times, I think they were just grateful to have someone to talk to at first." The story started slowly. A sentence here or there, as if he, too, was trying to remember their story. But it spooled out from him as we walked in the autumn air.
JOEL
Trey's death had left me empty. I'd lost a lot in this life. Somehow never thought I'd lose Trey. Feeling him die in my arms, I realized I'd taken him for granted. He was a good man. Better than I was, and it was only that he asked me as his dying wish to take this kid to Bill and Frank that I was. If I had had it my way, I'm not sure what I would do. Maybe try my luck finding a car and starting my drive to Jackson, Wyoming, or just walk into a nest of infected and try to take as many of those fuckers with me before they got me too. All I knew is none of my plans really featured the kid.
He was a loose end, a liability. In the morning, when he wasn't infected, I realized Trey had been right. This kid was immune. I didn't know what that meant exactly, but a lot of people would end up fighting over this kid when he realized what he was. It was better I just kept my distance. Better for both of us, he had his destiny, and I had mine. It was easier not to get attached and let the science geeks sort it out.
I kept cursing Martin for saddling me with this fucking kid. He knew what he was, and he still had shoved him off on me. I'd never been close to Martin, but I knew Tommy had told him about Sam. Martin probably knew the kid would be safe with me because some part of me would be trying to atone for the son I had failed to protect. But fuck, it was a head trip realizing this kid wasn't just any kid; he was everyone's kid. The promise of a world without any infected. The thought alone was enough to put my nerves on edge, probably while I'd been turning at every twig snap, ready to mow down a legion of infected if any of them sprung up.
I'd honor Trey's final wish of getting the boy safely to Bill and Franks as penance for all the years I should have let down my walls and let him into my heart. But after that, I was making a B-line for Tommy. With Trey gone, Tommy was all the family I had left, and I wasn't about to lose him too.
At the rate we were walking, we had at least another day on the road before we got to Bill and Frank's. After that, the kid would be out of my life. Figured it was probably best to give the kid a primer on what his life was gonna be like with the boys, so I started trying to think back and remember the stories Frank had told me about his early years with Bill. If anything, it would shut the kid up, and I wouldn't have to answer questions about every fucking thing we saw on the side of the road. I needed a drink and maybe an afternoon of fucking Frank while Bill smoked one of those Cuban cigars he kept squirreled away for days when he wanted to pig out and go, full leather dad. A day with some men would help calm me down and certainly help me from having all these stray thoughts about fucking Eli. The way that pert ass bounced as it walked made me think dirty thoughts.
Frank
"Hello," I called out from inside the pit. "What sort of fuck had dug a trench around their house. Can someone fucking get me out of here?" The first thing I saw was the barrel of his gun as it peered over the trench down at me. I hadn't really expected anyone to hear me, startled I yelled up at him, "I'm not infected. I promise."
"Why are you in my pit." his voice sounded Republican.
"I was just walking through. Trying to make my way to Boston." he was backlit by the sun, and I couldn't make out much.
"It's another 25 miles down the road." the voice drawled back.
"Yeah, well, I'm in a pit now. So if you can, just let me out I'll be on my way."
"Can't do that."
"Why?"
"You may be infected."
"Well, I'm not."
"Good then, if you're not infected, you won't be infected tomorrow." With that, he walked away. I looked at myself in the steadily diminishing daylight; all 5 feet 10 of my slender frame was dirty, and I was sure my floppy hair was a mess of twigs and leaves. Ten minutes later, he tossed the end of a baguette into the hole and left without saying a word. That was the last I saw of him all afternoon or evening. I should have known he was a stubborn old bull then.
"You're still human." His voice woke me up. At some point in the night, I had fallen asleep. I stared up out of the hole at the man above me. He was backlit by the morning sun, but he cut an impressive figure. A bear of a man. He must have stood 6 foot 2, with a big belly and a bigger beard. He looked to be just past 40. Distinguished by the trials of life.
"I told you. I'm just trying to get to Boston."
"No one wanted to go to Boston even before the world ended." I laughed at him.
"I'm only headed there because the Baltimore QZ fell, and I know I'm not gonna survive long on my own."
"Well, you can tell me about your survival skills over dinner."
"Dinner?!"
"I'll be back to get you out of the hole when I finish my work." He was gone as soon as he had said it.
"I thought you said dinner," I called up. It must have been close to 10 PM I had long since figured he'd forgotten about me.
"I got busy."
"Doing what?"
"Checking the rest of my traps."
"The rest of them!? How many do you have?" Something in my bones just told me this place would be my end; I was never leaving here.
"Enough to keep me safe." He paused for a long moment. "You like rabbits?"
"Rabbit?"
"You're not the only thing I've caught."
"I do."
"Well, I'll come get you once I've got dinner on the stove."
"I can help you!" I called after him, but he had already turned to walk away. "I'm a homosexual. We're good in a kitchen."
The ladder slid into the hole.
"Come on up." I scrambled out of the hole faster than I had climbed anything in my life. When I got to the top, I had my first chance to really look around. We were standing 20 feet away from a makeshift fence. Beyond that was what looked like several pristine blocks of a New England town. "Strip."
"Ask a man his name first."
"Need to make sure they're aren't any bites."
"It's been two days."
"Still." He cocked the gun. I pulled off my clothes quickly. Like me, they were covered in dirt and dried mud. I tossed them into a pile near his feet. I thought of leaving my boxers on, but his look told me that wouldn't be enough. I tossed them off and then grabbed my cock with my hand. He had that gruffness about him that gets softened by the homosexual lifestyle leading me to believe this man must be straight. He looked me over with a clinical eye. It reminded me of what happened after swim practice as a kid. The coach would return to the locker room and line up all the boys to check how our bodies were developing under his tutelage. Being inspected by him made me grow into a man who always wanted to please the straight men in my life. As I stood there, I cursed the coach's name--a lifetime of standing naked and at attention for the straight men in my life.
"I don't like dirt in the house, so leave the clothes here." the way he told me what to do was second nature to him. It made my dick jump.
"Am I eating dinner naked?" Maybe I was wrong about him being straight.
"I thought you might want a shower." he turned and walked towards the house. I followed, not knowing what to do. "And I've raided some of the neighbor's houses for clothes that might fit a trim man. 30-inch waist?"
"Yes. How'd you know?"
"I'm good at sizing men up."
"I've never felt this clean." I was wearing the clothes he had picked out for me. A pair of acid-washed jeans and an old green t-shirt that said, `Wild Man.'
"You a dirty man?" there wasn't even a hint of a smile as he said it. Ever since I had begun walking around his house, I had begun to suspect that maybe my initial thought that the man had been straight was misguided, but then he'd go and spout off something like this without a trace of irony, and I'd realize there was no way he could be gay. His home was a mausoleum to antiques and the presence of an older woman long since passed.
"Supposed not, just haven't had a warm shower in 3 months."
"3 months?"
"I've been on the road that long from Baltimore. Hot shower. Dinner. Drink! It's like I've died and gone to heaven." I took a big mouthful and stared down the well-set mahogany table at the handsome bear sitting opposite me. He was curt and dismissive, but I could see a man who wanted to soften up underneath his hard exterior.
"Not Heaven, just Lincoln, Mass."
"Why are you here in Lincoln all by yourself?"
"Wouldn't leave when they rounded us up for the QZ. Now this town is my own."
"Just you."
"Just me."
"Sounds lonely."
"Worlds lonely these days." We looked at each other for a moment. Both of our forks were frozen on their way to our mouths. He had such soft-looking lips for a harsh man; plump was the only way I could describe them. I kept imagining them on my cheek, my neck my back. Biting his lower lip between my teeth and his flesh give and open.
"Who was the last person you talked to?" I asked when the silence was too much.
"It was my mom's wake the week before the world died."
"That was two years ago."
"Then two years." I raised my glass of red wine to him.
"Well, here's to the best dinner I've had in two years. This wine pairs perfectly with this rabbit."
"Thank you for noticing. We will switch to a Harvest Reisling to go with the apple pie for dessert."
"Desert wine. Was this how you seduced all the women before the world ended." He took a big drink of his wine.
"They're never were any women."
"How about men?" He looked at me and then took a big gulp of the red, finishing it in one.
"It's so thick." I moaned as his cock pressed against my sphincter.
"The way you ate everything on your plate, I figured you had a big appetite." I started up at him from my back, lying naked in his bed. He loomed over me--a raw and masculine bear. His belly was nice and thick, and I kept rubbing my hands across his fur as he looked down at me. We had finished dinner and another few glasses of wine when he stood up and announced it was time to go to bed. Not knowing what to do, I followed him. I thought he might point me to a room, but he just walked into his room and closed the door behind him. We stood there, unsure of what to do next, until I reached out and placed my hand against his crotch. That was all we needed. The kisses came furiously at first. From both of us, we ripped off each other's clothes and made our way toward the four-poster bed.
"Be gentle with me." He moved my legs until they rested on his pecs and then firmly but deliberately pushed his thumb into my mouth. I moaned back at him.
"You gonna set the table."
"Yes, sir."
"You gonna wash the dishes."
"Yes, sir."
"Then I think you can stick around another week." He moved the head of his dick off my ass and pushed his thumb into my sphincter. "And we can use that time to loosen you up."
"Please fuck me. Please."
"Soon. I don't want to break my new toy after unwrapping it. Now moan for papa bear." He shoved his finger deeper inside me, and I shuttered. His finger went right to my prostate and started rubbing it. I began leaking pre-cum almost instantly. As he worked and rubbed on me, I felt my sphincter open up, craving more of him. I tensed my hole on his fingers, milking his hand as he felt my insides. I looked up into his eyes, and he just smiled before spitting on my face. I looked back in shock, but he slapped me across the face before I could say anything.
"Ughhhh, Bill." I moaned.
"You like that slut?"
"Fuck."
"You want more?" I thought about it, his hand resting gently on my cheek. It was so big. Everything about him was big. I nodded once. His finger pushed deeper into me, and as I moaned, he slapped me again.
"Train you up."
"Yes, Bill."
"Call me Papa." So I did.
I stayed that week, the next, and the one after that. Before we knew it, we were making plans for the winter together. Then the winter came. Driven indoors for what felt like weeks at a time, we found different ways to distract ourselves, and he discovered every way to make my body moan.
"I have a present for you." He said, walking up to me as I sat in the noonday sun next to our vegetable patch. He was wearing the brown and red plaid shirt I loved, unbuttoned with a pair of Carhartts. He looked like every construction stud I had jerked off to when I had been growing up on the outskirts of Baltimore. But he was mine. This stud had bent me over his bed every night after dinner and every morning when I woke to take his cock.
"Is it our anniversary already."
"I pulled you from my hole three years ago."
"Pulled me out of one hole just to get deep into mine."
"Something like that." I had never had a man claim my hole so wholly. His dick wasn't the longest dick that had ever fucked me, but it was the thickest. Getting fucked by him had hurt for the first few months I had been here. But I quickly realized the only way I would keep him happy was to train my hole. I'd wake up early in the morning or sneak back from the fields where we grew our vegetables to slip in my butt plug. It was one of the few possessions I brought when I left Baltimore. Spending time training my hole before he used me was the only thing that kept me from limping around the house all day.
"Oh fuck, I don't know if my hole can handle another session," I said with a fake whimper. He had woken me up this morning and fucked me so long and deep.
"You're going to like this."
"I mean, I always like it," I said I slipped out of my chair and got onto my knees. I loved the feel of the grass on my skin I loved spending a moment tasting the day's sweat on his dick.
"Close your eyes."
"Oh."
"I made this for you," he said, stepping before me. I could feel the heat coming off his body. "And I know it's gonna make you a good boy." I heard him unbuckle his belt, and the pants drop to the earth. "This is one of those presents that's for me, as much as it is for you." He said.
"Papa..." I put my hands on his thick thighs. He leaned down and kissed me on the head. Then I heard the sense of something being unscrewed.
"Take a deep breath." he closed one of my nostrils by pressing his finger against it and then put a bottle under my free nostril. The scent was overpowering and familiar, with a hint of strawberries underneath it. "You never get to complain about me being too thick."
"Pops. You made Poppers?"
"Strawberry flavored." Just like my boy's hole." I moaned as the poppers hit my head. I never thought I would smell something like this again. The freedom. Everything left my mind, but the smell of his cock took my nose to the bottle and shoved me into his swollen crotch.
I loved his cock. The shape of it. The thick head with a wide piss slit and the solid weight of his thick cock. Seven inches long and seven inches wide. His pubes were wiry and coarse, and I loved the feel of them on my cheek. He used to wake me up in the morning, beating his cock against his chest. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He looked dreamy in the golden light as he slapped his cock against my cheek.
"Prettiest little fucker I ever did trap he said. Now goon out." He shoved the bottle under my other nostril, and I drank in the stretch. I started to moan, but he quickly shoved my head down on his cock, and it was all I could do not to choke. He shoved my head up and down and up and down. Using my hair to hold me where he wanted. Deeper and deeper, he worked his shaft down my throat. Opening me up. Making me gag. Pulling my head off his cock to watch the spit lines leak out of my mouth, connecting his cock to my face.
"Good faggot" he said, opening my mouth with his fingers. "These poppers gonna turn you into a slut almost as dumb as those infected. Brain starved bimbo with cock on the brain. Would you like that only serve cock all day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do anything for Pops poppers won't you."
"Yes, sir."
"Let me work that hole open get my hole first in you." I let out a deep moan. Frank had been talking about wanting to fist me for months now. Said, opening up my hole like that would make it easier for him to fuck me. I kept complaining if it was before the infection when we had poppers and better lube, I'd let him, but now that we had the poppers, I knew I didn't have an excuse. I moaned back at him. I wanted him to claim that from me. Take my hole.
"Papa Bear, you'll destroy me."
"You're mine to destroy. Right now, just focus on my cock." He uncapped the poppers again and gave me a good hit. "That right. Just worship my dick. Just like that." I worked the cock with my mouth. Making sure to slide my tongue up his shaft with every thrust and then let my lips tinger his head. He loved it when I alternated between deep thrusts and worshiping the head of his prick. Kept him hard without coming for ages so that he could edge himself inside me for hours.
Drunk on the poppers, I lay there amongst the vegetables, filling my mouth with his cock until I felt his body shift.
"Keep focusing on this cock, baby. Papa Bear is gonna take care of you." I opened my eyes to watch him reach over and pick an ear of corn from a nearby stock. He peeled the husk, all the while looking at me. "Show me what you can do, boy." With his cock still in my mouth, I shimmied myself out of the shorts I was wearing. My juicy ass was framed by the worn straps of the old jock strap he made me wear. Bill had a few rules in his house that he asked me to live by. But one of them was that I was either wearing one of his old jock straps or nothing at all.
"Good boy." then he pressed the tip of the corn to my asshole. The shudder that worked its way through my body had me gasping for air, but Bill kept his cock slammed to the back of my throat. And wouldn't let me off.
"You told me all those stories about when you would go to the bars and let men breed your holes simultaneously. Now show Papa what you were talking about."
I fought against his hand until I freed myself from being trapped on his cock.
"It needs lube, sir."
"Such a bitchy bottom." He mumbled before taking the corn and shoving it into my mouth. "Spit on it, boy, because this is all the lube you're getting," I mumbled out a yes as I took as much of the corn as I could in my throat. He reached around and slapped me once hard across the ass.
"Now open up this hole." I moaned and pushed myself back against the corn. Making sure to arch my back as much as I could. It slipped in inch by inch until I felt like I could barely take any more squirming on the corn while I buried my face in his cock. "Good hole. Let Papa work you open."
He kept drilling my ass with the corn and gagging me on his cock. The sensations were almost overwhelming as he used and abused me. Whenever I started to pull myself up for air, he would grab me by the hair and pull me off his cock to shove more poppers into my nose.
"You are nothing but a hole today." He said before spitting on my face. My cock quivered as he did that. Even if he weren't one of the last men on Earth, I would have done anything to please him.
When I could barely prop myself up anymore because my head was spinning, he pulled the ear of corn from my ass and tossed it over the fence.
"Next year will have wild corn." He grabbed me by the balls and viciously tugged on them until he had maneuvered me onto my back. He looked down at me in the grass and spit on me again. "You ready for this thick dick now, boy?" I looked up at him and nodded. I was ready for whatever he wanted to give me.
Letting go of my balls, he knelt in the grass behind me, lifting my legs.
"Fuck I love the look of your beat-up hole. Finally ready to take this dick without crying.
He lined up the head of his dick with my asshole and then face me for one last his of poppers as he looked into my eyes.
Good boy. No, be quiet, or the infected will hear you." Before I could ask him what he meant, he slapped one hand over my mouth and used the other to grab me by the throat. He pinned me to the earth and, with one vicious thrust, pushed himself deep into me. I tried to cry out, but no air escaped my throat. His eyes turned wicked, and I swear I saw fire dance In his eyes as he looked at me.
"You are nothing but my cunt, and today you learn that."
He fucked me into the earth until the tears streamed down his face, and his load leaked out of me. I'm sure I blacked out once or twice because I could hardly remember the last hour when I finally returned to myself. Everything was a haze of cum and poppers and the scent of strawberries. He was dressed and sitting next to me. Smoking one of the few cigars we had left.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Frank. And I've been mad the world ended for years now, but I can't be mad any longer because its ending is what brought you to me. I love you, Frank." The tears welled up in my eyes once more. In all the time we had spent together, he had yet to tell me he loved me.
"I love you too, Bill." He reached down and tousled my hair.
"I know."
"I don't want to live a day without you."
"Well, I don't think you'll have to. Can't imagine you surviving without someone to cook you rabbit and choose your jock strap."
"I don't think I could."
ELI
"This town looks abandoned," I said as Joel walked towards the gate. "You sure this is where Bill and Frank live?"
"Yeah."
"Looks dead." The last day on the road hadn't been that bad. Joel had started to tell me stories, and having him talk about something at least took my mind off the pain in my feet. Felt like I had walked a million miles, not 20. On our first night out of Boston, we had slept off the road in a grove of trees. It had been cold, and I had thought Joel might lay down near me to share body warmth, but he just let me be. I woke shivering at 6 am to find Joel already up, waiting for the sun to rise. We got to walking right away. I'd been looking forward to meeting Bill and Frank all day, if not them, certainly the hot shower Joel had told me about. That sounded pretty nice right about now, but looking around the deserted town, thoughts of showering quickly left my head.
"Come on." Joel punched a code in the door, which opened to his touch. We walked into the small town square, and Joel cocked his gun.
"Somethings not right. Stay close." We made our way towards a beautiful old home, the front door of which was blowing in the breeze.
"Bill?" Joel called out, "Frank?" We stepped into their dining room. The table was still set--unwashed plates and bottles of wine all around.
"Stay here, Eli," Joel said as he left the dining room and headed towards the stairs. Surprised by this still life staring back at me, I looked around the room. On the mantle was a letter. Somehow it seemed out of place amongst all the brown furniture, so I walked over to it and found that it was addressed,' to whoever finds this. Probably Joel and Trey.' I figured I counted as whomever, so I opened the letter and began to read.
"Don't bemoan our deaths." The letter began. "It was our choice."
"Joel!" I called out. "You're gonna wanna read this."
"What?" He called down. I skimmed the letter fast.
"They left a letter saying not to go in their room." I heard him walking slowly down the steps. He emerged back into the dining room with a somber look on his face.
"So they're dead."
"Yeah. They committed suicide a few months ago. Said not to worry; they did it because Frank's health was failing, and Bill couldn't live without him."
"Bill could be a son-of-a-bitch, but he loved Frank fiercely." Joel punched the wall once. "Fuck."
"Says your welcome to everything in their storage under the house. Code is the opposite of the front gate." Joel let out a sharp laugh. "What?"
"Means the passcode is 6969. Such a dumb joke."
"Why is that number funny," I asked.
"You know something you just had to be a teenager before the apocalypse to enjoy."
"Well, he says to take the guns and the keys to the truck. He also mentioned that he has a fresh batch of poppers, whatever those are. And he wanted to ensure you and Trey get up to no good using them." At the mention of Trey, a frown crossed Joel's face. Deepening his already wrinkled brow. "Joel, what are poppers?"
"Nothing, kid. Nothing you'd have any use for."
"Well, what's next then? You can't just leave me here; they're dead." Joel was quiet for a long moment, and he just looked at me. I finally broke away from his gaze. Maybe being stuck here wouldn't be so bad. The place had big gates, guns, and poppers, whatever that was.
"I'm still going after my brother Eli. He should be somewhere in Wyoming. Not far from Salt Lake where the fireflies are meant to be. I'd say now that we got a truck, you can ride co-pilot."
"Yeah!" I jumped up and knocked the table, causing one of the glasses of wine to fall over and shatter against the floor. "Sorry," I said to no one in particular.
"Why don't you clean that up? Dishes too. We're gonna stay here tonight."
"Does that mean we can watch a movie?!" I said
"What?"
"I noticed a TV and a bunch of VHS when we came in. We had some back with FEDRA. Could we please do a movie night?" Joel looked at me for a long while and then laughed.
"Sure, kid. It's probably what they made all the poppers for in the first place."
"What's that?"
"Well, you use poppers to clean VHS. Makes it nice and easy to slide em in and watch em."
"Oh, cool. Then yeah, let's get the poppers, and I'll see if there is popcorn." Joel might not know it, but I was determined to make him like me.